This is How You Feel Like Home
by DramaticTendency
Summary: She glances at the storage closet, eyes sizing up its potential before deciding that it's a room with a door and, well, her standards aren't exactly high right now. Not when she's got her giddy, almost giggling husband on her arm, and a grin that could rival only Toby's plastered across her face. / Basically, what would have happened if Waige weren't in the closet at their wedding


Happy rushes around the corner, one hand holding up the length of her dress off the floor, and Toby's hand in the other. She can feel the side of his ring rub against the inside of her fingers, and she'd be lying if she said there wasn't something exciting about that.

She glances at the storage closet, eyes sizing up its potential before deciding that it's a room with a door and, well, her standards aren't exactly high right now. Not when she's got her giddy, almost giggling husband on her arm, and a grin that could rival only Toby's plastered across her face.

"Ahh…here!"

"Utility closet? I don't care," Toby agrees quickly. She grabs a hold of the handle and the door squeaks open. Happy drags Toby inside by the lapels of his jacket as one of his hands wrap around her waist and the other goes to pull the door shut with an echoing _click_.

With only a few steps, Happy stumbles slightly in the dark and finds herself pressed flush against the back wall, nothing but the sliver of a glow leaking in through the small crack between the joints of the door, and the glint in Toby's eyes to light up the room.

With Toby crowded closely against her they don't waste any time. Their bodies soften into each other, limbs wrapping around into practiced positions and figures arching into familiar places and, god, it's him, it's still _her_ Toby but there's something different now about the way that they're holding each other that makes it all _more_.

She kind of hopes she never gets used to it.

His lips taste sweet, like wedding cake and her once impossible wishes of a _happily ever after,_ because she's wearing a white dress on her body and two rings on her finger as she kisses her husband in a closet and it's all so goddamn _ridiculous_. She wonders how things managed to get so perfect.

He pulls back slightly, moves to kiss a line from the top of her dress to the back of her ear, tugs gently on her lobe with the edge of his teeth before making his way back to the crook of her mouth.

It's a rush and a buzz, a hot flare in her chest tearing through the rest of her body that makes Happy's spine shiver, her hands shake. For once, the tremors in the tips of her fingers make her feel _steady_ , because there's something so _sure_ about the firm grip he's got on her hips, something _safe_ about the tight grip she's got on his heart.

They pull away from one another breathing heavily but staying close, their foreheads nuzzled slightly against each other.

"I love you."

She takes a moment to catch her breath, thumb trailing along the edge of his scruff, eyes tracing the outline of joy on his face as he beams back at her before she whispers, "I love you, too, Doc."

His smile grows a little bit brighter.

"So," Happy smirks, fingers toying with the edge of his bowtie, "What was in the rest of those vows you threw away?"

He hums a kiss against the curve of her jaw. "Mmh, really? You wanna hear them?" Toby asks, a tinge of surprise evident in his voice.

"Maybe," she tries to tease, and if it wasn't so dark, Happy's sure he'd see the gentle blush that was beginning to bloom on her cheeks.

And perhaps it's the way the subtle movements of her hands _still_ around his neck, or the way the rhythm of her breathing _stops_ just for a moment, because he can _sense_ how willing she is, and he chuckles softly, because even a pitch-black room can't hide the way he knows her.

She tries to pull his focus, to distract him from her ever-growing moments of sweet vulnerability by tugging gently on one side of his bow tie, pulling just enough that it uncurls itself from around his neck before she moves one hand up to take it off completely.

With the end of the tie pinched between her thumb and forefinger, she slowly drags it down his chest using her right hand, pushing against Toby with just enough pressure to force him to lean back slightly, to put a little more _space_ between them so she can just try and fucking think _clearly_ for a second, before tucking the bow tie into his jacket pocket.

But he's back to being huddled against her in an instant, shuffling forward to line his hips up against hers once more.

"Yeah?" Toby's voice is low and rough, his question wrapped up in a moan as he leans down kisses her again, something slow and deep and _wet_ that makes the inside of her brain grow numb _._ Toby swallows Happy's whimper that would have bounced its way around the corners of the closet as her hands hang frozen in between them.

"I could go and get them right now, sweetheart. I mean, if you want to hear them so badly," Toby mumbles against her lips, "We could go back out there."

But Toby's actions are defiant of his own suggestion and he bites down on the kiss, tugs hard at her bottom lip until it falls out from between his teeth and Happy's left rapt with parted lips, struggling to drag in her next breath, and she can just _hear_ how smug he is in the silence after her gasp.

She _almost_ wants to call his bluff.

Instead, Happy reaches up, thumb hooking around the back of his neck as she wrenches him down, impatiently slants her mouth across his to wipe that self-satisfied smile off his face. She brings her other hand to the bottom of his dress shirt, wrapping two fingers around each button as she twists each one undone, slowly making her way up his body until she has his shirt hanging open.

She gently brushes both his jacket and shirt to the side and off his shoulders slightly, grinning to herself as she slides her palms across every stretch and curve of muscle under his now bare skin.

He meets and matches her every move, though. Quick hands and gentle touches sweeping over her body making Happy feel all kinds of _tight_ and _tense_ as the feeling swells and surges through her.Happy feels her heart skip a beat, lungs skip a breath, when Toby's hand glides over the curve of her hips as the other slinks into the heap of soft, perfect curls trickling down her back.

He is warm and pliant against her, form moulding faultlessly into hers, and it sparks a delicious ache low in her centre that ripples through her. Happy runs her hand down the front of him, lets her fingers linger against him before undoing the button of his pants, and as she leisurely grazes her lips along the slope of his collarbone, Toby groans, shuddering out a rush of hot breath.

"Oh, _god_. You're right. We should get them later," he pants against her mouth.

"Mmh, your wife is always right."

With that, she spins them around in the tight space, Toby's back gently slamming into the wall as his hands reach for the zipper of her dress. She sinks into the moment, lets the conversationslip and fade into the back of her mind.

Happy hasn't heard his _real_ vows yet, the ones he'd probably been planning and perfecting since he met her, and a small part of her wants to, _needs_ to hear again and again how he loves her like nothing else.

But she can feel his hands, soft and delicate, trailing along the ridge of her spine, and the weight of his body pressed hard against hers, and she thinks that might be all she needs to hear, and she can't get over just how much it all sounds like _home._

Home like his sunshine smile lighting up the darkest corners of her mind when she wakes up at midnight with ancient fear in her chest, heart beating _too fast_ for all the wrong reasons, and he holds her close, whispers a lullaby of sweetness against the shell of her ear until she's not scared to close her eyes again.

Home like the way she curls into his lap every evening, arms entangled and legs intertwined, when she doesn't know if his old Harvard sweatshirts smell more like him or herself anymore, and she doesn't know which she prefers.

Home like his voice on the other end of the phone, on the other side of the world, when the distance is too damn much but the sound of his _goodnight_ , _beautiful,_ tucks the bedsheets in a little _tighter_ , makes the empty space on the other side of the bed feel a little _smaller_.

Home in the way it all fits.

Like the missing piece of a puzzle. Like a bolt and a wrench, a chain and a gear. Like the perfectly polished ring on her finger.

 _Home._ Like the sound of her heart, calm and quiet in her chest, beating right next to his.


End file.
